The day I married Idris was bright and cold, the sky clear and heralding snow from the north. In the city, celebrations started early. The palace had cooked enough to feed every citizen, and even from my chambers I could see the confetti launched into the air and could hear the cry of mizmar horns. In the palace itself the air was filled with song, the beat of drums, and Kushaila celebrations. I had passed by the gate early in the day and singers were camped on the hillside, announcing our happy news.

The day was half gone when my mother and Maram came to help me get dressed. My arms and feet were wrapped in gauze to preserve the henna designs that were drawn on the night before, and the two of them worked quietly and efficiently to peel them off and help to wash off the dried paste. I bathed and my mother oiled my hair; while my hair dried, I ate.

The qaftan had been delivered early in the morning and hung on the wardrobe door. It was a heavy gown made of sea-green brocade, just shy of true Ziyadi green, embroidered in coral pink. Its bodice was studded with pearls, and a pattern of feathers swept out from the waist and down along the skirt. The collar was high, and from throat to waist were pearl buttons, situated in wound beds of coral thread. My hair was gathered up and wound at the back of my head, and held in place with a white pearl comb, streaked in pink and gray. Tala and my mother helped me into the qaftan and laced up the back, and Maram gestured a handmaiden bearing a velvet box forward. Inside it was a simple gold coronet, patterned with feathers and studded with small jewels.

My breath caught and a lump formed in my throat.

“Please don’t cry,” Maram said, setting it in my hair. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it.”

I gave her a tremulous smile. She swept one of my curls behind my ear.

“From villager to princess,” she said softly. “Houwa’s shadow loosed at last.”

Tala set out a pair of bejeweled slippers that I slid into after I stood. My mother draped a sheer coral veil over my head; it was heavy and long, its tail longer than the trail of my gown.

“Ready?” my mother asked.

I nodded.